Flavor of the Month, John Minczeski

Chidago Canyon Petroglyph, Detail from Next


Flavor of the Month


Seeking perfection, Chickadees flit
through the cold light of the crabapple—
a pile of driveway snow at its base
like a campaign slogan.

We also preen. And for what?
When the almighty wants to designate
one of us flavor of the month, best look
the gift horse in the mouth and step aside.

When I have the attention span of a pickleball,
it’s not nerves so much as destiny,
a metabolism in constant need
for news in real time.

Like most world leaders, my brain is
the consistency of mashed potatoes,
not the hard solidity of freeze-dried
crabapples, a supper club with a sing-along.

Robins fling themselves into
the labyrinth of twigs without fear.
A cardinal flickers like a dash
of paprika in the flurries.

John Minczeski


Review by Jared Pearce

Well, all is vanity, I suppose, or at least one can see things this way, and certainly here where the poem questions, “And for what?”  Just that zip of paprika at the end.

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